s to rest on the lair, Stifford allowed his memory
to forget the rule of the shop, and left the counter for the door of the
lair, determined that Miss Orgreave should see the genuineness of his
anxiety to do his utmost for so sympathetic a woman. Edwin, perceiving
the intention from his lair, had to choose whether he would go out or be
fetched out. Of course he preferred to go out. But he would never have
gone out on his own initiative; he would have hesitated until Janet had
departed, and he would then have called himself a fool. He regretted,
and I too regret, that he was like that; but like that he was.

He emerged with nervous abruptness.

"Oh, how d'you do, Miss Orgreave?" he said; "I thought it was your
voice." After this he gave a little laugh, which meant nothing,
certainly not amusement; it was merely a gawky habit that he had
unconsciously adopted. Then he took his handkerchief out of his pocket
and put it back again. Stifford fell back and had to pretend that
nothing interested him less than the interview which he had
precipitated.

"How d'you do, Mr Clayhanger?" said Janet.

They shook hands. Edwin wrung Janet's hand; another gawky habit.

"I was just going to order a book," said Janet.

"Oh yes! `The Light of Asia,'" said Edwin.

"Have you read it?" Janet asked.

"Yes--that is, a lot of it."

"Have you?" exclaimed Janet. She was impressed, because really the
perusal of verse was not customary in the town. And her delightful
features showed generously the full extent to which she was impressed:
an honest, ungrudging appreciation of Edwin's studiousness. She said to
herself: "Oh! I must certainly get him to the house." And Edwin said
to himself, "No mistake, there's something very genuine about this
girl."

Edwin said aloud quickly, from an exaggerated apprehensiveness lest she
should be rating him too high--

"It was quite an accident that I saw it. I never read that sort of
thing--not as a rule." He laughed again.

"Is it worth buying?" Now she appealed to him as an authority. She
could not help doing so, and in doing so she was quite honest, for her
good-nature had momentarily persuaded her that he was an authority.

"I--I don't know," Edwin answered, moving his neck as though his collar
was not comfortable; but it was comfortable, being at least a size too
large. "It depends, you know. If you read a lot of poetry, it's worth
buying. But if you don't, it isn't. It's n